Mysterious Divine Wine
by TungstenCat
Summary: Sometimes your sister sneaks into your room to borrow your favorite shirt, and you scream at each other, but everything's fine a few days later. And sometimes she sneaks into your kingdom to steal your throne, and in response you strip her naked and pluck out her eyes. A few millennia later, you're still not talking.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: This is a very loose sequel to one of my other stories, "Fixed in the Stars", and it certainly doesn't need to be read before this one. If you have read the previous work, you may notice a considerable tonal divergence between the two. That's what happens when you're a hack writer who begins what you meant as a silly piece, and it runs away from you entirely.

* * *

"It is good that Chaldea's systems are designed so sensibly." declared Ereshkigal, holding her head up at what she hoped was a suitably haughty angle. "All doors should open before a goddess!"

Of course she had been pleased when the door to her obnoxious sibling's quarters had slid open at her merest touch, nevermind the trembling in her legs. It was the natural result of her divine authority. It would certainly extend to any other location in the facility she might care to visit.

She paused on the threshold, breathing in the cloying scent of pomegranate blossoms that floated from the room beyond. Then she hung her head and groaned.

"It's because we have such similar Saint Graphs, isn't it?" she sighed. "Both our graphs and our host bodies."

While undeniably convenient, it was also intensely aggravating that the system had confused her with the other goddess. It felt too much like Ishtar overshadowing her again. And maybe she always would, because as arrogant and difficult as her sister could be, she was also cheerful and confident. Above all, she was entirely comfortable in her own skin. Surely Ishtar never felt the need to practice her introductions in front of a mirror, nor fumbled for words when the red archer brought her tea. It was a trait that Ereshkigal couldn't help but admire. Even envy, a little bit.

Ereshkigal shook her head. "Keep your eye on the prize, Ereshkigal!" she chided herself. "Just walk in and grab the tablet, and then you can make divine wine for Master. In and out, before Ishtar even notices. You won't have to deal with her at all."

She brushed aside the odd clenching in her heart as she stepped into the room. Ishtar had maintained her taste for luxuries, judging from how she had arranged her quarters. Ereshkigal shook her head as she let her eyes sweep the room, taking in ornate furnishings and golden braziers, silk pillows and bowls piled high with decadent fruit. But no tablet in sight, let alone the one she sought. Ereshkigal sighed. _Of course she wouldn't have the decency to make this easy on me_.

Admittedly she was here to steal that tablet, but Ereshkigal refused to feel bad about that. Because unlike her sister, who stole everything that wasn't nailed down to satisfy her selfish whims, Ereshkigal was doing this for Ritsuka. Her precious long-suffering Master, who travelled without complaint through the most grueling of singularities; who smiled through even shattered limbs and soul-tearing losses.

_Who smiled even at the fearsome goddess watching from her lonely throne, desperately wishing she could come along,_ she reflected with a small smile. _She reached her hand out to me, knowing who I was, and brought me to Chaldea. I have to repay that kindness somehow_.

For all her kindness, her Master deserved the very best. That was why Ereshkigal was going to treat her to ancient Babylon's divine pomegranate wine. Sweet and crisp as the fruits of heaven, it was beloved by gods and demons alike. Even the proud Gilgamesh conceded it as "acceptable".

There was only one problem. To properly ferment the fruit, she needed the essence locked away in the Red Blossom Tablet, a priceless artifact from her homeland. And of course the tablet belonged to Ishtar. _Why wouldn't it? _thought Ereshkigal bitterly. _She got everything else, too. Father always spoiled her rotten_.

Brushing away the rich scents of summer sunlight and blossoms that permeated the room, she set to rummaging through her sister's possessions. She opened gilded drawers and lifted up crimson drapes to check the recesses, sighing all the while. Tedious as this was, it was still better than asking her obnoxious sibling to borrow the tablet, a notion that filled her mouth with bile. She did not want to put up with Ishtar boasting and preening over it. _No, let her have a taste of her own medicine this time. She can't complain, not after everything she's done!_

Ereshkigal took a few deep breaths to calm herself before resuming her search. Her fingers grazed over chests of jewels and silken clothes, as well as shining blades and monstrous skulls with twisted horns, mementoes from Ishtar's various battles. All of it manageable, until she came across the jar of brilliantly coloured feathers.

_She was back in the Underworld, watching enviously through her mirror as Ishtar whooped and soared through the air, following the flocks of Anzu birds. Occasionally she would swoop to catch one of their storm-feathers, flashing silver and electric blue, as they came loose from beating wings_.

Ereshkigal felt her envy flare, heavy and leaden in her breast. As pretty as Ishtar's mantles and jewels might be, none were as precious as the freedom her sister enjoyed as Goddess of the Heavens. How many centuries had Ereshkigal watched, cold and alone on her gloomy throne, as her sister travelled the world, drank with other gods, walked freely among humans, played with creatures rare and wonderful? All the things eternally denied to the Queen of Underworld, chained to her grim duty almost as soon as she was born.

Even now, her heart clenched every time she saw Maana, the glorious Boat of Heaven that carried her sister on winds of gold and lapis lazuli. What might she have given, to have the chance to drive it herself, strike out to whatever place she wanted to explore? But even more than that…

(_If I could have chosen anything, I wished you would offer me your hand and pull me up beside you. So that we could ride among the stars together_).

And the worst part, the salt viciously rubbed in Ereshkigal's emotional wounds, was that Ishtar had still been greedy for more. She'd had the arrogance, the _utter gall_, to crash down to Kur and try to steal Ereshkigal's kingdom out from under her. The old outrage boiled in her throat, and with it, the black choking fumes of betrayal.

(_Because she had been delighted that somebody—better, her sister!—was visiting her. The gloomy underworld had little to offer, but she had prepared her best anyway._)

And then Ishtar had appeared at the first gate, clad in mantles and jewels that were more weapons than adornments. Girded for war. Although the other goddess had promised Ereshkigal nothing, it was still a jagged javelin to her heart. And in that ragged hole there grew rage, as bitterly cold as the underworld wastes.

_(I wanted you to come for me! Visit me, talk to me, take me with you! But no, you only cared about your next conquest. You only ever cared for yourself. You never—)_

"You never thought of me."

Ereshkigal sighed and let herself collapse onto the bed, pressing down on wine-red sheets and plump pillows. Her sister might notice the rumpling later, but right now she didn't care. It was soft and comfortable against her back, and she needed a moment to settle herself. It would have been even better if the coverings didn't smell of _her_—sunlight and wind and ripe fruit—but she would take what she could get.

She idly raised her head and found her eyes drawn to the night table, blinking when she found the customary pile of gemstones had been replaced with a vase of moon-white lilies. They looked almost fragile amongst all the pomp surrounding them, completely outside her sister's usual tastes, yet they occupied pride of place on the golden surface.

_No doubt a gift from Astraea_, thought Ereshkigal, thinking of her sister's latest and unlikely paramour. The Goddess of the Scales was a lioness spun from starshine, with her mane of tumbling gold and her fierce amber eyes. Strong, beautiful, and with enough pride to blind the sun. Exactly the kind of lover that Ishtar recklessly wooed, then used and abused before tossing them aside in the past.

But something had changed in her sister since her arrival in Chaldea. For all her quarrels and duels with Astraea, Ishtar seemed to grow more besotted with her by the day. It wasn't uncommon to see her floating behind the Ruler after one of their fights, smiling and whispering things in her ear that probably didn't bear thinking about.

And while that could still be explained as an unusually long-lasting infatuation, the same could not be said for the way Ishtar treated their Master and increasingly their fellow Servants. Cold arrogance had given way to cheerful boasting, cruel words to sly teasing. It was doubtless the influence of her host, but Ereshkigal liked to think some of it was Ishtar herself finally mellowing as well. For after all, letting oneself be influenced at all was a concession for any goddess.

She smiled as she ran a finger along the lilies, enjoying the velvety softness of the petals. _Even my spoiled little sister can change, a little_, she thought to herself, _and that means I can change too_. _I don't have to be the terrible Queen of Kur here. I can be someone that Master is proud of_.

Encouraged by a vision of Ritsuka's grateful smile as she was presented with a golden flask of wine, Ereshkigal resumed her search. Not long after, she found the red tablet at the bottom of a trunk full of books and scrolls. _Of course _her obnoxious sibling had conspired to be even more insufferable by putting something away properly for once. Or perhaps it was the influence of her host, Ereshkigal allowed. She knew that hers was the organized sort as well.

She smiled triumphantly to herself as she ran her fingers along the rough surface of the clay, tracing the spells meticulously inscribed in the ancient languages. _A _successful quest, she nodded to herself in satisfaction. She carefully wrapped the tablet in her cloak and turned to go.

Ever since her summoning, Ereshkigal had a vague sense from her host of being afflicted by some sort of curse, a way of pulling defeat from the very jaws of victory. And maybe there was some truth to that impression after all, because at that same moment, the door hissed open and Ishtar floated in.

She looked genuinely surprised to see Ereshkigal, crimson eyes widening as her body gave a small jerk in the air. They stared at each other for a moment, an uncomfortable tension weighing heavily between them, before Ishtar gave a curt nod. Ereshkigal bit back a curse as she felt the wire of her unease pull her body rigid, a red flush threatening to overtake her face.

"Ereshkigal."

"S-Sister," said Ereshkigal, lifting her head proudly as befitted a queen, her hands tightening around her prize. Nevermind that she had been caught red-handed trespassing in the other goddess' territory; a goddess never apologized for going where she wanted. Hadn't Ishtar herself taught her that?

So she only smiled thinly as she nodded in return. "I shall be on my way now."

"Oh? But I've just come back," smirked Ishtar, twirling a raven lock around her forefinger as she considered. "And if you've come here to my room, it's because you wanted to see me, right? No shame, everyone does!"

She proudly lifted her raven hair, letting it tumble down her slender shoulders. Her red eyes gleamed as brightly as her golden ornaments as she grinned at her sister

"Certainly not," said Ereshkigal coolly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Weren't you supposed to be out chasing dragons with Astraea?"

_And using very expensive Rayshift technology for your selfish fancies_, she frowned inwardly. _I've heard Da Vinci complain about how much each shift costs. But you don't have the slightest bit of shame about that._

And indeed, Ishtar threw back her head and laughed merrily as she did a pleased pirouette. "Ahahaha! Well, things may have gotten a little out of hand when we turned it into a contest. That drillhead's going to be insufferable until I even the score."

She glowered for a moment, but not without a certain affection. Again something lurched unpleasantly in Ereshkigal's chest, and again she pushed away the meaningless feeling.

"Well," said Ishtar eventually, "the end result is we ended up getting back earlier than expected." She smirked as she floated closer, flying lazy circles around Ereshkigal's head. "Why, could it be you're up to something naughty? Something unbefitting a goddess?"

"N-no! What are you insinuating?" She fought down the flush rising to her cheeks, opting instead to glare at the other goddess. But it had little effect—Ishtar drifted by closer than ever, arching one elegant brow at the bulge under Ereshkigal's cloak.

"Is that my Red Blossom Tablet?" she asked, red eyes gleaming. "Are you stealing from me?" But Ishtar didn't seem angry. If anything, there was approval in the crook of her smile.

"I'm borrowing it," said Ereshkigal loftily, shifting the tablet so that she was carrying it defensively against her chest. "Although if I _were _stealing it, you of all people could not complain." Ignoring the outrage that flashed across her sister's face, she tilted her chin defiantly. "I'm going to make wine for Master."

"Really now." Ishtar was hovering over her right shoulder now, so close she could feel her warm breath against her ear. Her lips were drawn back in a sly smile. "Wine-making involves fermentation, which means growing life." She waved a hand at Ereshkigal's choker, with its golden skull pendant resting just below her throat. "Can a goddess of death do that much?"

"I can!" said Ereshkigal, pulling the tablet more tightly to herself. Nevermind that she had been plagued by that very doubt. "I absolutely can!"

Ishtar drifted forward, brushing past her with a soft whisper of black hair against the crimson of her cloak. She turned and considered Ereshkigal for a long moment, her expression uncharacteristically serious. Just as the underworld queen was opening her mouth to say something, she wasn't quite sure what, Ishtar closed her eyes and sighed.

"Hmph! I guess it can't be helped then. I'll lend you my treasure to brighten up your dismal life a little." Her eyes snapped open as she pointed imperiously towards Ereshkigal. "But return it without fail! As the Queen of Heaven, all riches flow to me, understand? Not the other way around!"

Ereshkigal blinked as her sister's words registered. _It can't be that easy, can it_? But Ishtar was merely floating there, looking at her expectantly. That gave her the small jolt of courage she needed to raise her head and nod. "Very well, then. My … my thanks."

The words felt awkward as they fell from her lips, for she had never expected an (_opportunity_) occasion to direct them towards her sister without malice. But she let them stay said, for a goddess was nothing if not gracious in words and deeds.

Relief washed over her as the wasted adrenaline dissipated, and with it something small and shy fluttered in her breast._ Maybe things really are different in Chaldea_, she found herself thinking. _We can at least be civil to each other. And maybe… maybe… _She found herself smiling at Ishtar, and felt the fluttering thing become warm when her sister smiled back.

That warmth clung to her shoulders, a second mantle of soft pink to cover her crimson cloak, as she walked towards the door. But she had only taken a few steps when Ishtar awkwardly cleared her throat.

"Ahh… Ereshkigal. A moment, please."

She blinked and turned to face her sister once more. The other goddess looked unusually ill at ease, drifting with her limbs tucked in close instead of spread in their customary aerial grace.

Then Ishtar gritted her teeth and looked Ereshkigal straight in the eye. "I, the Great Goddess Ishtar, Queen of Love and War, command you to hear my words!"

Disappointment crashed down on Ereshkigal, threatening to drown out the warm embers so recently lit inside her. They'd been having… well, not exactly a _moment_, but that had been the closest they'd come to getting along in untold centuries.

"Don't speak to me as if I were a mortal, _little sister_," she snapped.

Ishtar plowed on, as if she hadn't said a word. As was entirely typical of her. "While I am splendid and spectacular, the very image of beauty and grace—"

Ereshkigal could _feel_ the steam rising inside her. "Listen here, you—"

"—I have perhaps, ah, not always been an ideal sister." The other goddess looked away, but not before her cheeks flushed a light pink.

Ereshkigal blinked, the flame of her anger quelled by sheer astonishment. Ishtar acknowledging a fault was as unlikely as spotting a _mussushu_ strolling down Chaldea's corridors, as impossible as Gilgamesh admitting he had no idea what might happen next. It simply _didn't happen_. She thought about discreetly pinching herself, for surely this was a dream.

It was made worse when the Archer took a deep breath before saying, spitting the words out as rapidly as a volley of arrows, "And it was wrong of me to try and claim Kur from you."

There was no sound but the faint crackle and hissing of the braziers' fires as Ereshkigal stared at her, mouth agape. Definitely a dream, or perhaps she had slipped away into the Abyss after all. _How many centuries have I waited to hear those words, knowing full well that day would never come_?

"You… you what?" She might have rejoiced if the whole thing had not felt so surreal. As it was, she felt strangely numb as she stared at her sibling in disbelief.

"Hmph! Don't make me say it again," said Ishtar, crossing her arms defensively in front of herself. "It's embarrassing for a goddess." She frowned and puffed her cheeks irritably in the continuing silence, as Ereshkigal scoured her face for the inevitable signs of deception. There had to be, because this sort of thing… it wasn't for her.

"I'm not apologizing, you understand! As the patroness of war, it's my prerogative to grab anything I can! But I'll concede it was graceless of me."

The world seemed to spin for a moment, blurs of gold and wine-red, and Ereshkigal had never felt so adrift, not even when she had stood with her foot on the edge of creation's endless black waves. _That's an apology, any way you look at it_, she thought, and felt herself at a loss._ I should be happy, hearing this from her. _And she was on some level, for she could feel the flutter in her chest stretch its wings hopefully. But it also dredged up raging sea of turbulent emotions, most of all _hurt_.

Ereshkigal sighed wearily, unable to keep the frown from her face. "Why did you even want my kingdom, Ishtar? Most gods avoided it like the plague." _No matter how much I wished for them to visit_. "It's cold and gloomy, and you only have eyes for pretty things. Were you that desperate for a conquest after Mount Ebih?"

"Well,I _am _a war goddess," said her sister dismissively. "But I admit you're not entirely wrong. I didn't want the Underworld, not really."

Ereshkigal felt fury boil her blood. "Then why?!" she exploded. Her sister seemed taken aback by her uncharacteristic outburst, but that only stoked the heat higher. "You went through all seven of my gates, giving up an Authority each time! Why would you do that on a whim?" She could have choked on her anger, and something even more painful underneath it. "Did you want to humiliate me so badly?"

"That's not wh—" said Ishtar, before clamping her mouth shut and looking away. After a tense silence, she shrugged. "Look, it's not important. Let's just say it was a mistake and leave it at that."

"No! You owe me an explanation, Ishtar. Your _utter_ stupidity left me no choice but to rake you across the coals, and we've hated each other ever since!" Her hands clenched around the tablet. "What was so important that you felt the need to ruin everything?"

Ishtar's face flushed red as she looked determinedly up at the ceiling, the floor, everywhere but her irate sister. She floated a little bit away, as she often did when unconsciously seeking an exit. But there was nowhere to escape to within the closed quarters.

She eventually heaved a sigh and surrendered."Because you looked lonely, and I wanted you to take a break."

"What?" Ereshkigal's grip tightened to the point even the precious artifact might have snapped in half. "You came sailing down to snatch everything, in the most obnoxious way possible, for _that_? To tell me to take a vacation?" Her voice was nearly a shriek, but she was too angry to care. "Ishtar, why didn't you just _ask?_"

_Why didn't you just extend your hand and ask me to come up? That's all I ever wanted from you! How dare you tell me this after I hurt you—killed you—tried to lock your soul away with me forever? You really are the worst goddess. _She felt like laughing and crying at once.

Ishtar huffed. "Since when does a goddess ask? A goddess imposes her will. You know that." Her aerial turn had none of its usual grace. "And it was pointless to ask, because you would never have come! You would have said you had responsibilities so you couldn't play around like I do." She pointed a triumphant finger at Ereshkigal. "So I had to conquer it! That way you'd have no choice but to go up to the surface world."

Ereshkigal felt a headache coming on, a familiar sensation whenever her sister was involved. "That is the most _ridiculous_ proposition I have ever heard!" she growled. "You in charge of the Underworld? All the _gallu _and _lamashtu_? You would have made an absolute mess of things!"

"I would have managed just fine!" shouted Ishtar indignantly. "I protected all those farmers and bricklayers, didn't I?"

"You extorted them for gems!"

"Hey, payment for services rendered! If you give out too many blessings for free, nobody will appreciate them."

A kaleidoscope of images swam before Ereshkigal's eyes as she thought of all the comforts she had sought and failed to bestow on her kingdom. She saw herself desperately patting earth around a few stolen barley seeds, hoping against hope that something would finally sprout in the silvery dust. Demanding that Nergal give up half his Authority to her, eagerly clasping it to her breast only to find it full of plagues instead of sunlight. All while Ishtar, brimming with power over life and growth, couldn't be bothered to protect harvests without a king's ransom in offerings.

"You could never have ruled the Underworld," said Ereshkigal, her jaw tight with anger. "You who refuses to think of others, how could you ever have taken care of lost souls?"

"I know what I'm doing!" protested Ishtar.

"No, you don't." Ereshkigal shot a dagger glare at her. "The Underworld isn't a game, just like divine Authority isn't a game. But you always treat everything as if it was." She waved a hand angrily. "Always doing what you want, and worrying about the consequences later. Humiliating the great mountain with that eyesore you call a temple! Prancing down to my gates to try and steal my kingdom!" Before she could reconsider, her mouth twisted with spite. "Even marrying Dumuzid for his golden sheep."

Her breath caught as she watched Ishtar's eyes flash with hurt, and for a moment she regretted jabbing a finger into that old wound. But her pride ate at her, and she refused to take it back. No, why should she? It was all true. "You are a spoiled brat," she spat instead, "You never understood the weight of responsibility."

"I _understand_," said Ishtar with a mocking voice and bitter eyes, "that you take it to such an extreme that it makes you miserable. And you know what? You've got no one to blame for that but yourself."

Ereshkigal saw red. "You… how dare you?" she hissed dangerously.

She let the tablet clatter to the floor, entirely forgotten in her anger. Golden light gathered underneath her hands, and then she was closing them around the great wedged-shaped spear that defined her as a Lancer. Gold and steel flashed dangerously in the firelight.

(_Everything I poured into trying to improve Kur! How dare you stand there and tell me it was all wrong?)_

Ishtar backed away warily, a small flare of blue light dancing on the end of her finger-gun. Crimson eyes locked on each other, they glared at each other across a room suddenly filled with razor wired tension.

"You're always like this," growled Ereshkigal. "You, who were given Authority beyond measuring! Who all the gods adored! Does responsibility still mean nothing to you?"

She stalked forward, her hands clenched around her spear so tightly that her fingers ached. The magic bullet glowing on the tip of Ishtar's index meant nothing at that moment. It would not stop her from saying her peace.

"Even here in Chaldea, you continue to make a mockery of things," she said. "Blowing up hallways every time you have a tantrum! Wasting Rayshift energy for your petty whims! I was wrong, you haven't changed at all. It was a mistake to ever think—!"

(_to ever think we could be real sisters_)

With that thought came exhaustion, so old and deep that it ached in her very bones. She did not want to play this game with Ishtar anymore. Or anything else, for that matter. What had it ever brought her but frustration to gnaw at her stomach?

With an abrupt wave of the hand, she dismissed her spear. The cloak fell regally across her shoulders as she turned sharply towards the door, cutting off Ishtar's wary frown. She held her head high as she strode towards the exist.

"Wait!" came her sister's voice from behind her. "Don't you still need the tablet?"

"I'm done with you, Ishtar." Ereshkigal paused in front of the door, her eyes fixed on the silvery metal. "I'm sparing you only because you've somehow tricked Master into thinking your power is worth putting up with you."

She ignored the other goddess' squawk of protest. "So we'll play nice when it's Master's orders. But outside of missions—" Ereshkigal took a deep breath, "—we're through. Never speak to me again."

With that, she stormed out into the corridor, carrying her anger with her like a candle in the gloom.

* * *

**Author's Note**: For a cake that balances sweet fluff with a twist of bitter angst perfectly, please consider having a look at my friend Exstarsis' story, "10,000 Worlds". It is a delicious almond of a fic.


	2. Chapter 2

Ereshkigal sighed as she cradled the stuffed leopard in her hands. On most days, the toy never failed to bring a smile to her face—not just for its soft fluff, so different from the coarse sands of Kur, but also because of Vlad's serious expression when he had handed it to her. Not that she would ever allow herself to be seen holding it in public, of course. A goddess had her dignity, and she had no desire to build a reputation as the next Artemis. Still, it was a fond symbol of the life she was building for herself in Chaldea.

A life she was currently neglecting, holed up in her room for the third day in a row. Ereshkigal heaved a sigh as she lightly ran a finger along one fluffy ear. After so much time spent alone in the underworld, brooding on her throne of shadows was the last thing she needed. She should be sharing sweets with Illyasviel, or grinning as she clashed her spear against Mash's shield in the training hall. All the little pleasures she'd come to know since she had arrived.

But right now, she couldn't find it in herself to look forward to any of them. They all seemed pale and gray in the face of her simmering (_grief_) anger. If she went out to see her new comrades, she wasn't sure that she could keep her emotions entirely in check and the pleasant mask on her face. And if they saw her angry, they would stop thinking of her as their ally, and see only the terrible queen of Kur. Her throat constricted painfully at the thought of seeing fear in their eyes; in Master's eyes.

And if that wasn't bad enough, if she ran into Ishtar… well, she wasn't sure what she would do. _But it would probably involve excessive amounts of property damage_, she thought to herself wryly. _As the responsible one, it's up to me to take steps to prevent that. Yes, this is the correct course of action_.

So she sat on her chair and quietly stroked the toy, and told herself she didn't mind the silence. It was a comfort, really. She was a great goddess and she didn't need anyone and—

She almost jumped when a knock sounded at the door. _There she finally is_, thought Ereshkigal with a vicious tilt of her chin, _come to tell me how rotten and gloomy I am. I'm going to enjoy letting her have it_. She rose from her seat, then paused to check herself in the mirror above the vanity. Crown perfectly in place, shoulders straight, mouth set in a stern line. The very image of a proud goddess.

Nodding with satisfaction, she strode over to the door and opened it, glaring imperiously at the insolent petitioner.

And blinked when she found herself confronted with startled amber eyes framed by reddish hair. Ritsuka's fist was frozen in mid-air from where she had been ready to knock again. In her other hand, she held a small red case.

They stared at each awkwardly for a moment, before the magus smiled nervously at her.

"Hi, Eresh. May I come in?"

Ereshkigal could have kicked herself. She had been so busy worrying over her own feelings that she had neglected to think how her Master would react. Come to think of it, she had forgotten the tablet too, hadn't she? She had been so caught up in her foul mood that Ritsuka had slipped from her thoughts entirely._ Some responsible goddess you are_, she chided herself before pushing it away. She could self-recriminate later. Right now, she needed to reassure Ritsuka that all was well.

So she let her expression soften a little, trading her glare for a confident smile. "Everything is fine, Master. I am ready whenever you need me, as per our contract_."_

"I know," said Ritsuka seriously . "You are a very reliable goddess." Then she smiled, and it was almost breathtaking, the way it lit up her whole face. "But I'd also like to visit my friend."

"F-friend…" murmured Ereshkigal, unable to stop the blush heating her cheeks. "Then yes, of course! Please come in."

The goddess stood aside to let her into the room, then guided her over to sit on the red leather sofa. She felt the familiar twinge of anxiety whenever she let someone into her (_sanctum_) room, the worry that somehow her very presence had tainted it. That the miasma of Kur had somehow followed her here, chilling everything she touched with ice cold mist.

But Ritsuka always dispelled that fear with her warm eyes and cheerful grin. She sat upon the sofa as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and that gave Ereshkigal confidence that she had managed things after all. Furniture in dark woods and soft textures that was comfortable and tasteful, nothing like the excesses favoured by certain viragos. Grand as befitted a goddess, but welcoming too. So that people would want to visit her. So far Ritsuka did, and Mash as well, and she hoped that others would soon follow (_but not that one, nevermind the golden chair tucked away in the far corner_).

"I thought maybe you could help me with my nails?" asked Ritsuka, interrupting her thoughts. She held up the back of her hand and curled her fingers over, offering them for the goddess' inspection. "They've gotten pretty badly scuffed with all the sword training Artoria's making me do."

She saw Ereshkigal frown, and held up her hands appeasingly. "No, it's not like that! I asked her to train me, and I'm very grateful. It's just that sometimes I want to sit back and do girly things too, you know?"

"And you want to do them with me," said Ereshkigal, feeling both warmth and a bit of hesitation in her chest. Mostly warmth though, and that was progress, for not long ago her doubt would have swallowed all that whole and left her shaking.

"Sure!" chirped Ritsuka. "You enjoy it too." Her brows furrowed as she looked up, a touch of uncertainty falling over her face. "You'd tell me otherwise, right"

Ereshkigal was about to tell her that all such recreations were below a divine spirit such as herself, the necessary response of a self-respecting goddess, but it melted away before that earnest gaze. So instead she smiled as she sat across from the magus.

"I do. And of course I'll help you." She let her smile widen. "That's part of our contract too."

They both laughed as Ritsuka set her case on the table and began unpacking it, bringing out manicure tools and a dozen or so pots of polish in a variety of bright colours. Ereshkigal let herself bask in her Master's presence, watching her hands busy at work. Those same hands that had reached out for her, despite everything she had said and done. She should be satisfied, and she was sure she was. And yet… and yet…

_(Just once, I'd like to sit like this with—_)

She bit her lip in annoyance as she dispelled the stray thought. Fortunately Ritsuka seemed not to have noticed, for her eyes were fixed somewhere behind Ereshkigal. She looked up at her Master inquiringly.

"Ahh, sorry. I was just looking at your daisies."

Ereshkigal couldn't help but grin as she joined her in gazing at the blue pot of flowers on the side table. They were as much a comfort as the leopard toy, with their cheerful yellow centres and soft petals.

"Oh, those," she said carelessly, even though she knew Master wasn't fooled for a moment. "Mash gave them to me when you got back from that rayshift last week, and a goddess accepts all offerings."

"They're doing a lot better than the last batch," noted the magus.

Ereshkigal nodded uncomfortably, because Mash's plants had come with some unsolicited advice._You shouldn't water them everyday, Eresh, or the roots will get too wet and they'll rot. _Mash's lavender eyes had softened as she pressed the pot into her hands. _There's such a thing as too much care, and it can hurt the things you're trying to help. _

She cleared her throat. "These are a more resilient kind, that's all."

Ritsuka nodded encouragingly as she lifted up a jar of pink polish. "I thought we might try gel nails today? They're still hard to get a hold of here, so I asked Paracelsus to try making me some."

Ereshkigal decided not to comment on the wisdom of trusting the alchemist's compounds. She had many doubts, but Master's cheerful trust was one of the things that endeared her to Servants and staff alike. And Ereshkigal could always tear the antidote out of Paracelsus' hide in the event of treachery.

She picked up one of the bottles, a stormy blue-gray the same colour as _anzu _feathers, and pushed away the ache again. "This looks the same as the other polish," she noted. "How are they different?"

"Gel is more resilient, and it's better for your natural nail. It's harder to put on by yourself though."

Ereshkigal looked dubiously at the assembled tools, including the odd device that looked for all the world like a hollow dome for the hand.

"That's the UV lamp," said Ritsuka, before taking pity on her. "Why don't I do yours first, so you can see how they go on? I've got a bunch of colours you can choose from."

"Then black, please." As soon as the words were out, Ereshkigal cursed herself. _Stupid. A rainbow of colours, and you choose the gloomiest one. The one you're already wearing, no less!_

But Ritsuka only nodded in approval as she reached for the correct jar. "Good idea, stick with the tried and true. And it really draws out the red in your eyes."

The eyes that marked her as unnatural, but Ritsuka didn't care. That brought a rush of gratitude, and with it a vague sense of unease. So she sat back against the padded leather of the sofa and looked aside.

"I can do this myself, you know," she said loftily. "I can modify my Saint Graph to make such a simple change in appearance any time I wish."

"Sure, but this is way more fun. Here."

The magus gently picked up Ereshkigal's hand gently, carefully handling the long fingers. _Warm_, thought Ereshkigal as the soft skin glided against hers, _Master's hands are so warm_. She had shied away from touch at first, the pulse of life overwhelming after her centuries among the cold and dead. Ritsuka had never complained, only gently and steadily coaxed her to try again. And although holding her hand now must have felt like ice, Master bore it with a smile. If Ereshkigal had not already pledged herself to this woman, she would have done so all over again for that simple touch.

Ritsuka turned her hand over and clicked her tongue. "The nails are already the perfect shape. I guess goddesses really are on a whole other level, huh? You and Ishtar both," she commented, apparently oblivious to the scowl spreading across her companion's face. "Then I guess we can go straight to painting."

She dipped the brush in the base coat and applied it to Ereshkigal's thumbnail in even, practiced strokes, humming to herself as she worked. _No, forget your plague of a sister. She's occupied too much of your mind of late_. She breathed in slowly, willing to herself to relax until some of the dense knot of stress slid undone. _Just focus on Master, her patience, her warmth. _She sighed in quiet pleasure as she offered each finger in turn, appreciating how gently Ritsuka handled them.

The magus was on the ring finger when she cleared her throat. "Is everything okay, Eresh? I haven't seen you outside your room for days now."

Ereshkigal bit her lip and looked away. "I apologize for worrying you, Master."

"It's fine," said Ritsuka reassuringly. "So long as you're alright. I can understand why you might need space."

"I simply needed time for my own affairs!" snapped the goddess, crimson eyes flashing. "It has nothing to do with Ishtar!"

"Of course," said the other smoothly. "Here, hold your hand under the lamp so the coat can cure."

Still huffing, Ereshkigal nevertheless did as she was bid, sliding her hand under the curious dome. To her surprise, a blue light clicked on, throwing its shade over her newly prepared nails.

"UV light makes it dry faster," said the magus, smiling fondly at her reaction. "I guess sunlight really is useful for all kinds of things."

It was still a wonder to Ereshkigal, how humans had managed to capture part of the sun in such a small artifact. Why couldn't she have done something similar, back when she still had souls to tend? But no, despite all her scrambling she had always failed to capture sunlight, and she had never ceased regretting—

(_you take it to such an extreme that it makes you miserable)_

-she ground her teeth and tried to force away the obnoxious voice, her other hand tensing in her lap. And again Ritsuka said nothing, only coaxed the painted hand out so she could apply the second coat of polish, as black as midnight.

Ereshkigal watched in sullen silence for long minutes, then huffed indignantly. "Of course, you could scarcely blame me if I _were _avoiding her. Which I'm not, because she does not merit that kind of attention."

"Right," nodded her Master.

"I simply hope that you do not let her behaviour colour your impression of me. While we may be two sides of the same power, it is as night and day."

"I understand."

Encouraged by Ritsuka's soft humming, Ereshkigal found herself sharing all the outrages she had suffered at Ishtar's hands since she had come to Chaldea. All of her sister's faults and infractions, laid out so convincingly that even their brother Utu wouldn't have hesitated to bring his divine justice down on her thick head. She did not mention that she herself had been trespassing during the most recent offense, but that hardly mattered. It was a mere drop before an abyssal ocean.

"Selfish! Flighty!" huffed Ereshkigal. "How can she call herself the Queen of Heaven, when she flits between her whims? And that whole business with the summer race …"

Ritsuka never interrupted, only made soft murmurs of acknowledgment as she kept applying the gel with patient brushstrokes. Part of Ereshkigal was afraid she might be imposing, but for once she decided to indulge herself. It felt good to have someone to talk to, someone who would _listen_, not because she was terrified into doing but of her own free choice.

"...and then the dragons," she all but growled. "She must know how expensive Rayshifting is, but she doesn't care. Not as long as she can show off in front of Astraea—"

"The ones from the pocket singularity?" asked Ritsuka, her interjection so unexpected that Ereshkigal's litany died away.

She shrugged irritably. "Does it matter?"

"Well…" said the magus reluctantly, pausing her work to scratch awkwardly at the back of her head. "If it's the one I'm thinking of, then we… kind of asked her to?"

Ereshkigal stared.

"Okay, more like Da Vinci mentioned it needed to be done, and she volunteered herself and Astraea. Demanded they be sent, actually." She sighed. "But that's her way, she always needs to make it sound like it was her idea."

The goddess sat in silence for a moment, turning the information over in her head. "Alright," she finally conceded, "perhaps on this occasion. But she should still treat her Authority more seriously. The way she talked about managing Kur, like it was just another petty item on her list. Unbelievable." She looked over to her Master, her fist tightening despite the soft fingers brushing against hers. "She understands nothing about taking care of souls. Nothing about what they need, what hurts them. How can she stand there with that stupid smile and tell me she could just wing it? Like all my thinking about Kur's problems were…."

"A waste of time," said Ritsuka gently. Ereshkigal nodded stiffly, her hand tenser than ever. The magus gave up, letting go and putting the brush aside.

"She really is a useless goddess sometimes," said the magus with a shake of her head. "But this might be my fault, too. I should have known her pride would get in the way, and she'd fumble it."

She shrugged apologetically when Ereshkigal fixed her with a meaningfully raised eyebrow. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but… well, you're upset—"

"I'm not!"

"—and she never specified I shouldn't, so here goes." She fidgeted with one of the polish jars as she spoke, twisting the cap lightly in her hand. "Ishtar came to see me a little while back. We talked for a bit."

"You mean she boasted at you," scoffed the goddess.

"That's how she is," said Ritsuka with a suspiciously fond smile, and Ereshkigal determined that the girl really was too easy-going for her own good. "Anyway, after a bit of digging, it turned out she wanted advice about how to reconcile with you."

And yet again since coming to Chaldea, Ereskigal found herself blinking in astonishment. "That… _you _told her to do that?"

From the way Ritsuka was suddenly massaging her temples, she could guess a lot had been lost in translation. "I said she should talk to you when you were in a good mood, and… directly broach the painful stuff. Like lancing an abscess, kind of thing."

She shrugged awkwardly. "I gather things got pretty sore the first time Ishtar went down to the Underworld." Then she looked up curiously at Ereshkigal, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. "Were you really going to keep shrunk-down Ishtar in a cage?"

"She would have deserved it," said Ereshkigal. But inwardly, she gave a sigh of relief. At least Ishtar was holding to their unspoken agreement on the matter. _Neither of us wants Master to know what her divine spirits did in our previous incarnations. Who we really are, and what we're capable of. Because she'd never look at us the same way again_.

Ritsuka cleared her throat. "Anyway! I apologize. I should really have been more careful with my advice."

"Don't make excuses for her, Master," grumbled Ereshkigal. "She's had far too much of that done for her already."

They sat in silence for a bit, with the magus speedily finishing the top coat on the nails now that Ereshkigal had calmed enough to hold still again. Once she was done, the goddess had just enough time to admire the glossy crows-wing black before her hand went back under the lamp.

They waited for a while, with only the quiet electronic buzz of the machine to fill the silence. Eventually Ritsuka looked up at her again.

"Can I say something, Eresh?" she asked tentatively. "Something that might be a bit disrespectful to divinity?"

She grudgingly smiled back. "So long as you aim it somewhere deserved."

"Right," said Ritsuka, nodding with a hint of steel. "Then it seems to me that An was a pretty lousy father."

Ereshkigal found herself glaring at her, even though she had thought herself prepared. Hearing a mortal speak of divinity that way, even those she had some resentments against herself, still sent angry shivers along her spine.

The subtle widening of amber eyes told her that Master had noticed, but she plowed on anyway. "Most of all for sending you down to the Underworld without company or support. When we came to see you in Kur, I… it was beautiful, but it was cold." She unconsciously shuddered at the memory, and each tremble was a knife to Ereshkigal's heart. "And you were there for eons. Alone."

"Hush, Master." This time it was Ereshkigal who took her hand, running her thumb gently along her knuckles. "You brought me here, and for that I am very grateful. It is a beautiful journey we share, although it comes at the risk of humanity's fate. But know that you will succeed, for you have my favour. And whatever happens after, I will have these memories to warm me even in the darkest abyss."

The blush spreading on the magus' face was adorable. It was all she could do not to giggle, divine dignity or not. "I... thank you," murmured Ritsuka, before straightening in her seat. "But yeah, An. He was cruel to you, but he wasn't very good for Ishtar either."

"He spoiled her rotten," frowned Ereshkigal.

"Yes. And as a result, she's her own worst enemy." The magus brushed a hand through her hair as she sighed. "She never learnt empathy or tolerance, and she throws tantrums every time she doesn't get her way. Snatching everything she wants means she never treasures any of it, to the point she ends up tossing it away. Do you think it makes her happy?"

Ereshkigal scowled, anger seeping into her voice. "You're saying I should feel sorry for her?" she scoffed.

"I'm not saying that," Ritsuka defended herself. "You have every right to your feelings. I just..." She opened her mouth, then closed it again when the words wouldn't come. Her shoulders slumped. "I just hate seeing you unhappy."

Ereshkigal sighed impatiently, which the magus wisely took as her signal to disengage. A small beep from the lamp provided a welcome distraction. Ritsuka eased the hand out from under the lamp, grinning at the lustrous sheen of black nails.

"That looks great," she said, and the goddess couldn't help but nod in agreement. "Let's have the other one now." Ereshkigal was more than happy to offer it.

Ritsuka ended up choosing blue when her turn came around, and nothing more was said on the topic that evening.

* * *

Hassan pulled the straw away from under his ghost-mask with a satisfied sigh. "Ahhh yes, this is it. The perfect _jellab_, refreshing as it hits the tongue."

Ereshkigal looked at the deep red liquid swirling in his glass, raisins and pine nuts floating gently among the crushed ice at the top. The bright colour and fruity aroma practically called for a cocktail umbrella tucked in the glass, whispered the voice of her host.

"An unusual drink for an assassin," she smiled at him before raising her cup to her lips, savouring the delicate citrus flavour of her tea. "Shouldn't you be drinking bitter tears and darkness?"

"I could say the same to you," he said without rancour.

"_Touché"_, she said, settling back into her seat with a sigh.

This was pleasant enough by any objective measure, and Ereshkigal knew she should be enjoying herself. She was rather fond of Cursed Arm, even if his founder would never let him fully acknowledge her divine authority. He understood fully what it was like to live and work in the shadows, but long for brighter things. The grotesque hand that served as his namesake would never let him forget it, however many black bandages he wrapped around it.

Still Ereshkigal tapped her foot under the table, feeling unaccountably restless. And that was frustrating, because so far everything was turning out exactly as she might have hoped. When she had emerged from her room the first night after Ritsuka's visit, she had dreaded running into Ishtar. Whatever Ritsuka had said, her anger still burned like a hot coal in her stomach, and the last thing she needed was to have it stoked anew.

But the first night had passed without the slightest trace of black twintails, and Ereshkigal had gradually relaxed into her usual routines. Parvati had been glad enough to see her, and the two goddesses had amiably argued the merits of spears and tridents well into the dawn.

The second night had similarly been undisturbed, leaving her free to share tea with the red archer. The blend had been excellent and the company pleasant, but she had found her relief oddly tainted by irritation.

Now it was the third night, and discontent was gnawing at her fingers. It wasn't very satisfying being aloof towards someone if they weren't even there to notice. More than that, it was downright vexing, especially since she couldn't exactly yank open Ishtar's door to tell her just how happy she was not to see her. That would rather defeat the point of the exercise.

She sighed. Was Chaldea ever this quiet, even at night? Ereshkigal usually found that silence soothing, but now it was somehow disquieting. It felt a little too much like the tomb.

A slurping noise brought her attention back to her companion, who was intently sucking up the last of his drink. He gave a low sigh of satisfaction, then rose from his seat with a dancer's grace. The monstrous fingers of his bandaged hand closed around the empty glass, before the more human ones motioned towards her saucer.

"Are you about done?" asked Hassan. "If you are, then I'll return these to the kitchen. We're running low on dishes these days, so that archer gets angry if you hold onto them for too long."

Not that EMIYA needed any excuse to be short with Hassan; while he had never deigned to explain his reasons, he had also never made any secret of his dislike for the Assassin.

"What happened?" asked Ereshkigal curiously. "Did someone let Lu Bu into the kitchens?"

"Hah, not quite that bad, or we'd all be eating from paper plates." Hassan shrugged his mismatched shoulders. "No, it's Enkidu and Ishtar, fighting like scorpions and spiders the last few days. There's only so much we can spare as projectiles, and we've already hit that limit twice over."

"I see," scowled the goddess, latching onto the offered anchor for her irritation. "Having fun at Chaldea's expense again, is she?"

"If that's your idea of fun," said Hassan with a shake of his head. "It looked more like a death match to me."

Ereshkigal sighed and finished her tea, the last of her good mood draining out with the remainder of her cup. "Thank you for the company," she told Hassan as she handed him the dish. "But now I must attend to business."

_Like returning to my room so I can rearrange my daisies for the fifth time. _At least the solitude would give her a bit of time to collect herself. And she still needed to think of a suitable gift for Master. One that in no way relied on any artifact owned by a certain annoyance.

_Daisies_, mused Ereshkigal as she walked towards her quarters. _Maybe Master would like… no, what am I saying. Daisies are so common, they're practically weeds. What kind of gift is that for a goddess to grant?_ She bit her lip as the familiar door came closer. _Now maybe if it was something rare and wondrous. Perhaps I could bargain with Gilgamesh for his herb of – no, no, that's not goddess-like either!_

She was so distracted that she didn't notice the box until she almost tripped over it. Wrapped in cloth decorated in a blue-and-white wave pattern, it had been placed directly in front of her door. Ereshkigal hesitated before carefully picking it up and examining it more closely. Now that it was under her nose, she could smell something good wafting up from it-something warm and sweet, like baking bread.

_An offering_? They were rarely presented to her, and usually accompanied by pleas and tears. She discreetly looked up and down the corridor, but it seemed she was alone with her questions.

_Perhaps it's from Jing Ke, or one of the other assassins. A token of appreciation for the queen of death. _That explanation would have been far more convincing if she'd been holding a bottle of spirits, or a purse of gold coins. The box somehow did not feel like an offering presented to divinity. While obviously put together with care, it felt less grand, more low-key and personal. The sort of thing that (_family_) a friend might press on you on your way out the door.

Her curiosity piqued, she loosened the bow and tugged open the wrapping. The laquered box inside brought a distant voice to the forefront in her mind, telling her to expect rice and toppings. But when she eagerly lifted up the cover, she found barley bread baked in spices, dried dates, and a small block of creamy white cheese. Exactly the sort of thing she remembered watching enviously through her mirror down in Kur. Not just because her own mouth watered at the sight of them, but because she wished she could have shared them with the souls in her care.

Well, at least she could enjoy them now. _Master really took advantage of her month living in Uruk_, she thought fondly as she reached for the bread_, to capture the look and feel so well_.

The morsel was halfway to her lips before doubt seized her. Those spices, the ones filling her nose so richly she could practically taste them… cinnamon and ginger. _But these herbs are imported from the north of the kingdom_, realized Ereshkigal, _so they would have been blocked from Uruk due to the Demonic Front. So Master wouldn't know to include them._

Suspicious, she roughly shoved the box down to the ground and picked up the wrapping cloth to give it a good sniff. And as she had expected, away from the strong food aromas, she could pick out the faintest hint of pomegranate blossoms.

_Ishtar_. Her hands fumbled with the cloth, let it drop. She watched it flutter to the floor, her stomach heaving. _Some kind of trick_, she thought to herself, _it has to be_. Because the butterfly was lodged in her throat, and she had to choke it back down. _You've hoped for more from her before, and you've always been disappointed. _

She looked down at the box again, with its torn bread and spilled dates scattered about it. As much as her fingers itched to reach for it, she forced them rigidly to her side. Accepting it would mean letting the ice around her heart thaw, even a little. It would mean exposing that heart, raw and freshly beating, to the pain of further betrayal.

She swallowed hard. _It's just another whim of hers. She'll abandon me again soon enough. _No, best to leave her heart safely frozen and the food untouched. It was the safest statement she could make. _Let it stand, then_, she told herself as she retreated back into her room.

In the winter of her mind, the butterfly's wings twitched and stirred.


	3. Chapter 3

Ereshkigal had been disappointed, but not surprised, to find nothing in front of her door the next evening.

"That's just like her," Ereshkigal acidly told her Master that night, watching from the other side of the sofa as Ritsuka tapped through brightly coloured icons on her phone."A narcissist like Ishtar never sticks to anything for very long. As soon as it ceases to amuse her, she drops everything and moves on, regardless of the damage she leaves behind."

_She's already given up_, she thought, and the sourness dripped back from her tongue to roil her stomach. Ereshkigal sighed, then leaned over to get a better look at her Master's screen. She could use a distraction from her acrid thoughts, and she was a bit curious as to what had so captured the magus' attention. She blinked when she found herself looking at a pixelated yet strangely familiar face of a young girl with a broad grin and sparkling white hair.

"God, this Magic Mari game has the most confusing selection systems," muttered Ritsuka as she swiped the character to one side. "What sadist designed this anyway?" She glanced to one side and sighed when she saw Ereshkigal's frown (_certainly not a pout_).

"Remind me, Eresh," she said gently, placing her phone to one side. "What did you tell Ishtar the last time you saw her?"

"That I never want to see her again," said Ereshkigal fiercely, her golden brows set in a glower.

"And what should someone do if they get such a request? Say, after they've left a gift and it gets turned away?"

"What?" The goddess paused, then shook her head. "No, she's just too lazy to keep trying. She gave up after a single day." She tossed her hair back before crossing her arms. "She should expect to grovel a bit. A goddess doesn't forgive easily, she taught me that herself!"

"So you want to forgive her," said Ritsuka carefully.

"Yes… no! I don't know," said Ereshkigal miserably. "Even after everything between us, she's still my other half. We sat on the moon and saw the world made together, when Anshar rose the land from the churning waters." She let her head sink, her hands twisting around the hem of her cloak. "But I don't want her to treat this lightly. I don't want to be brushed off as just another conquest or game."

"You're afraid she'll hurt you again."

She looked up sharply at her Master, the angry denial at the tip of her tongue, before her shoulders slumped. Because as embarrassing as it was, there was more truth there than she cared to admit.

"Look, Eresh," said Ritsuka quietly. "You've lived a lot longer than I have, and seen so much more. But when it comes to sticky emotional messes, maybe you might benefit from a mortal perspective." The magus gave her a lopsided smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Limited lifespan means we're forced to deal with these things sooner rather than later. We can't afford to put them on ice for centuries."

Ereshkigal smiled faintly. "I suppose it cannot hurt. After all, it was that same mortal stubbornness that allowed you to reach me."

"Ah hah, I guess so," said Ritsuka, scratching her neck. "You make it sound like such a big deal."

"It was," said the goddess in a tone of finality. She would not allow Ritsuka to understate her achievements, whatever the rules of modesty demanded. Making light of them was also making light of the Demonic Front, the people of Babylon, and all the comrades and foes they had encountered.

Amber eyes looked away from crimson red, but their owner's lips curled up in a shy smile. "Okay then. Thank you, Eresh."

"My pleasure," she said, and meant it. Sometimes it felt like getting through to her Master was harder than piercing a mountain, but that made such moments all the sweeter. "Then your advice please, Master. After all, it is your task to guide your Servants."

"Ahh, right!" said Ritsuka, still looking a bit flustered. "I was going to say, right now you're sort of sending Ishtar mixed messages. Just tell her exactly what you want from her." She gave a small chuckle. "You're a goddess, so you should be a natural at making demands."

Ereshkigal flushed in annoyance. "Hmph. I told you not to confuse me with _her_," she said, ignoring the way the magus' smile widened. Then more quietly, she said, "There's no use telling her what I want. She'll only use it to laugh in my face."

"Maybe," said Ritsuka softly as she reached for Eresh's hand again. Warm fingers played against hers, soothing the rising pressure in her chest. "I'm not going to lie, I'm asking you to step up to a chasm. And she could definitely shove you in while you're teetering there."

"This is not terribly persuasive, Master," murmured Ereshkigal, but she didn't let go.

"I know," said Ritsuka, and that dry smile was back. "But that gap can only be bridged by communication, even if it's painful. Staying far and aloof is much safer, but eventually she'll pull back too. Then you'll go back to staring at each other across the distance, and nothing will change."

There was a distant look in the magus' eyes, her mouth hardened into a tight line. _Ahh, she has a chasm of her own_, thought Ereshkigal sympathetically. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised. As amiable and adaptable as Ritsuka was—less charitable staff members derisively referred to her as "the chameleon" when they thought the Servants weren't listening—she was still human.

She gave the hand in hers a gentle squeeze, hoping to give her Master some comfort. That was what you were supposed to do in such situations, right? But maybe Ritsuka didn't crave touch as much as Ereshkigal did. Maybe she was overreaching—

Then the magus squeezed back, her fingers curling tightly around the goddess', and she could breathe again.

"That obvious, is it?" said Ritsuka eventually. The affected cheer in her voice did nothing to hide the tremor in her throat and shoulders.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Master," said Ereshkigal soothingly.

"Heh." The magus shook her head. "Thanks, but I guess I should talk about it." She hesitated, swinging her feet against the sofa, the soft thuds of her heels in time with the nervous beating of her heart. "Maybe it might help you."

"Master, you don't have to—"

"Did I ever tell you I had a brother?" said Ritsuka, choking out the words rapidly, as if she was worried they might stay caught in her mouth if she hesitated.

She snatched her phone back up and tapped icons on the screen with a speed that left Ereshkigal reeling. When she slid the device into the goddess' hands, there was a picture displayed. Two youths stood against blooming wisteria trees, the hanging purple flowers a colourful contrast to the severe navy of their school uniforms. The girl was certainly her Master, looking a little younger and infinitely more unsure of herself. Her smile was more a rigid quirk of lips than anything natural. In contrast, the young man at her side was freely grinning, his hands folded comfortably behind his head. Despite his dark hair and blue eyes, so unlike Ritsuka's, the similar rise of their cheekbones, the lines around their eyes and noses, immediately gave them away as siblings.

"That's my brother," confirmed Ritsuka in a subdued voice. "He was the smart one between the two of us." The unconscious wrinkling around her mouth as she said the word, the bitter ghost lurking in her emphasis, said loud and clear that _smart _was a stand-in for many things. "My parents never said anything, but they didn't have to. Everyone knew."

Ereshkigal shifted in discomfort as the magus tilted the phone back towards herself, amber eyes locked on the man's face. She felt as if she were intruding on something intensely private, regardless that her Master had invited her there. Part of her wanted nothing more than to excuse herself, and it was only the fear that might hurt the magus more that kept her rooted in her seat.

"Niisan was scouted by Chaldea as part of the second wave of Masters, did you know? They sent a car to come get him and everything." Ritsuka was trying for a steady matter-of-fact delivery, and missing by a quarter mile. The trembling was back in her voice, her words coming a little too quickly. "I made it by the skin of my teeth, and only because one of the chosen candidates fell ill." She laughed without humour. "I guess I proved them right when I slept through orientation, huh?"

The goddess swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say or do. But that didn't seem to matter, for Ritsuka wasn't fully in the room with her anymore. Her eyes reflected an entirely different Chaldea, one that had shattered long before Ereshkigal had ever taken step off the summoning platform.

"Then the… " Ritsuka took a deep shuddering breath. "The explosion happened. And then it was me after all. The one entrusted with the future of humankind." She shook her head ruefully.

Ereshkigal wanted to grab her face and force Ritsuka to look at her. To lecture her about all the wonderful things she had done, the journey she had walked and that Ereshkigal had finally, _finally _joined her in, and yell at her to never talk about herself that way again. The reprimands burned on her tongue.

Then what her Master had just said really sunk in, and her eyes widened. "Your brother died in that disaster?" She abruptly stood, crimson eyes bright. "I shall fetch his soul at once, in the finest cage! Wait right there, Master—"

"No!" shouted Ritsuka, tugging on the hem of Ereshkigal's dress before she remembered herself. She immediately let go, the apology in her eyes clearing to relief when the goddess merely looked back at her. "Thank you, but no," she continued after a moment. "Niisan wasn't one of the fatalities, thank god. He ended up in cryostasis, so he's okay."

_He has to be_. It hung unspoken in the air between them. And once again Ereshkigal held her tongue, for she had watched countless families say similar things while their loved one's soul descended to her realm; seen them cut their hands on equally bright shards of hope. And like those families, her stubborn Master would hold tightly to hope regardless of how it cut her. So the goddess only nodded when Ritsuka turned to look defiantly at her, arms crossed.

"The point is that Niisan and I… we didn't get along. At all. For a long time." She let out a small sigh as she ran a thumb over the wisteria trees in the picture, as if she could feel their soft blossoms across time and space. "But when he heard I was going to be joining him in Chaldea after all, he made sure to greet me at the arrival platform. We had… a long talk. About the way he spoke down to me. About the time I took a crowbar to his new bike."

"You what?" sputtered Ereshkigal, entirely unprepared for the mental image that assailed her. Ritsuka in a delinquent's leather coat and mask, swinging iron as she sauntered towards her brother's vehicle.

The magus must have noticed something in her expression, because she gave a short bark of laughter. "Not like whatever you're thinking! Still an ugly thing to do, though." She fidgeted with her phone, her fingers straying over the picture again.

"Things are still strained as hell," she said. "You can't wipe away five years of bad feelings with a bunch of words, however much you mean it. But it's getting better." She formed a fist and made herself smile. "And it'll keep getting better once he wakes up, too. If I could talk even literal goddesses down, then I'm sure I can manage a polite tea with my family, right?"

She smiled wryly at her companion. "Anyway, that story wasn't meant to push you towards anything, Eresh. I just wanted you to know where I was coming from, if I seem a bit too involved in your business here."

"Master…"

"You should do what you think is best. After all, you can't compare a mortal's troubles to those of divinity," said Ritsuka, with just the hint of a smirk.

"That—that's right," said Ereshkigal, puffing out her cheeks. "You're pretty smart for a human. So be grateful that I shall consider your words."

"Sure, sure," hummed the magus as she cheerfully touched her fingers to her forehead in a mock salute. And for all that Ereshkigal knew it to be an affectation for her benefit, Ritsuka did seem somehow more… not content, exactly, but relieved. As if an uncomfortable burden had been rebalanced on her shoulders, even if it could not be lifted.

"Hey," said Ritsuka after a moment, scratching her neck. "While I'm telling you stories about Niisan, want to hear about our sixth birthday party?"

The goddess perked up. "Yes please!" she said eagerly, before remembering herself. She put on a lofty expression. "I mean… this goddess will permit it."

"You two are more alike than you think," giggled Ritsuka into her sleeve.

"Come again?"

"Nothing, nothing!" She cleared her throat. "So dad was setting up to bake our cake, strawberry for me and chocolate for Niisan. Simple, right? But I'd fallen in love with the idea of a three tiered cake ever since Auntie's wedding, so I begged and begged—"

Ereshkigal nodded encouragingly, letting the bright words and brighter memories flow over her, the cheerful current of a bubbling brook in high summer. As much as she was enjoying herself, she felt a small stab of envy too, for if she tried to tell her own stories, they would fall like gray dust and bitter rain.

_Is that still true? _a small voice drifted up to her. _So much has changed since Master brought you here. The Servants and the staff might not be the gods you longed for, or the mortals you sorrowed for, but they've already given you so much. _She thought of bright flowers and midnight drinks, eager hands tugging at her sleeves. _And it can change more, if you just keep reaching. Even if it doesn't work the first time, or the second, or even the hundredth time. As long as you live and interact with others, there is hope. _

She smiled fondly at Ritsuka, who was blithely chattering away about collapsing pastries and angry mothers, oblivious to her companion's tangled feelings. _Thank you, Master_. _Yet another gift I need to repay you for_.

But for now, she simply let herself be the audience for Ritsuka's fond memories and small jokes. And that was enough.

* * *

Ereshkigal marched down to the cafeteria bright and early the next day, her red cloak billowing behind her and her step all confidence. She forced her eyes forward, ignoring the curious glances of staff members entirely unused to seeing her during daylight hours. She had a mission to accomplish.

She threw the doors open and surveyed the room, nodding only vaguely at EMIYA's silent question before spotting her quarry. Ishtar was seated across from Astraea, poking her spoon moodily at a fruit parfait. The Ruler's own slice of coffee cake seemed forgotten entirely as she weaved an account of her latest exploits in the wrestling ring.

"Ohohoho!" she laughed merrily, one elegant hand raised in front of her mouth. "You should have seen the look on that Penthesilia's face! Even the brawniest of barbarians cannot withstand my suplex!"

Ishtar's smile was admiring, if also rather grudging. "Tch, you never do pass up an opportunity to show it off."

"Mmm, if only you had been there to see it. How sad that you don't come to the sparring halls anymore, love. I do so miss our little engagements." Astraea leaned forward, her impressive curls tumbling over her shoulders and down into her cleavage. She smiled in satisfaction as Ishtar's eyes followed them and lingered there. "Well. If you're conceding my mastery in the ring, perhaps I shall claim my spoils in the bedroom, fufu."

"Hah! Not a chance." Ishtar tore her gaze up, the better to glare at the other over the parfait's glazed oranges and kiwis. "I just haven't been in the m—"

Her eyes widened when she finally spotted Ereshkigal approaching the table. The underworld goddess felt a momentary thrill when she saw Ishtar's grip tighten around her spoon before she forced a strained smile to her lips. There was a certain sense of power in drawing such a reaction from beneath her sister's usual shield of arrogance.

_Stop it_, she told herself sternly. She was distantly aware that Astraea was watching too now, sweeping her eyes over her in silent appraisal. It was a bit worrisome, given all that had recently passed between herself and the star-daughter's lover, but she couldn't afford to worry about it now. She needed to focus on what she meant to convey to Ishtar. _We've both treated this as a power struggle for so long. We need to learn a new language if we ever want things to change between us_.

It didn't stop her from looming over the table, shoulders proud and her gaze fixed imperiously upon her fidgeting sister. She wasn't ready to shed her armor entirely, whatever her hopes about what might come next.

"Grapes," she said at last.

She met Ishtar's raised eyebrow with a cough and an involuntary shuffle of her feet. "I would prefer grapes to dates," she explained, forcing herself to maintain eye contact despite her sudden embarrassment. "I may be fond of wine offerings, but I also enjoy fresh fruit."

For a long time there was no answer as Ishtar stared back at her, eyes wide and mouth half-open. Ereshkigal braced herself, increasingly sure that her (_suggestion? demand?_) would be greeted with mockery, or perhaps indignation, once her sister had recovered from her surprise.

Then Astraea laughed, a rich golden chuckle that easily flooded out the awkward silence. Ishtar immediately snapped her gaze towards her, an unmistakable pout on her lips.

"Don't you dare say it!" she growled.

The star-daughter merely waved airily in response, earning an angry huff before Ishtar turned back to face Ereshkigal.

"It wasn't an offering, okay?" she said fiercely, an effort that might have succeeded if not for the colour rising in her face. "I had extra, that's all."

"Which is why you demolished half of the kitchen chasing off that Jaguar Man," said Astraea, her light tone entirely at odds with the meaningful look she directed Ereshkigal's way.

"That beast would have eaten everything!" yelled Ishtar, slamming her palms on the table. "Educator or not, she's a bottomless pit. I would have had none left for—"

She caught herself, her expression darkening when she caught sight of the little smile Ereshkigal had not quite been able to suppress. "This is really pissing me off," said Ishtar, before trying again. "Don't misunderstand. A goddess never apologizes."

"Except when she gives out what are clearly apology gifts," said Astraea in amusement, her smirk only widening when Ishtar glared daggers at her. "Don't frown so. I cannot help myself when you insist on heaping such obvious falsehoods before my scales. Be honest for once, love."

"Nobody asked you, you meddler!" hissed Ishtar.

"Meddling entirely for your own good," said Astraea with an air of long-suffering patience. "You do need a firm hand."

"A firm hand, is it?" Ishtar's tone lowered dangerously. "Maybe we should be taking this to the sparring room after all." Her pout had given way to a ferocious grin, blue sparks of energy dancing along her fingertips.

"Excellent," said Astraea with an approving nod. "Then without further delay—"

Under Ereshkigal's dumbfounded gaze, she rose from her seat and pounced upon Ishtar, strong arms locking mercilessly around her waist in a wrestler's hold. A short scuffle later, she had a triumphant smirk on her face and a struggling goddess over her shoulder.

"Let me go, you harpy!" yelled Ishtar, pounding her fists ineffectually into the tangle of blonde curls. "I'll _gandr _you so hard you'll be seeing your precious stars up-close for weeks! Put me down!"

Astraea merely laughed before turning to Ereshkigal, her golden eyes bright. "My thanks to you," she said, inclining her head.

"Ahh... you're welcome?" said Ereshkigal, not entirely sure what she had done to earn this proud goddess' gratitude. Still, it was a far sight more positive than the vindictive ice she had expected.

The Ruler's smile was downright sunny as she turned for the door. "Then if you'll excuse us—"

"You impossible woman—!"

Ereshkigal suppressed a smile of her own as she watched the Ruler swiftly carry her squawking sister out into the corridor. It was a very odd relationship, to say the least—the words they shared seemed equally soaked in honey and venom, not to mention their proclivity for exchanging blows as readily as endearments. It was nothing like Ishtar's past fancies, which always burned hot before descending into the iciest of chills.

Somehow this seemed healthier, even if it was too tempestuous for Ereshkigal's own tastes. And she couldn't deny that it gave strength to the fluttering bird in her chest. _Because if she can break her patterns this far for someone, maybe she really will do the same for me_.

That was a dangerous thought, the kind she should really know better than to allow herself. She'd had similar hopes in the past when other deities had descended the forgotten stairways into the underworld, and been disappointed each time. Enlil, Nergal in all his infuriating bluster, and of course—and most relevantly—Ishtar herself.

_This is just a test, _she reminded herself as she grabbed an apple from the counter before heading out herself. _You don't have to invest too much in this. Just see how she does over the next few days, whether this has any staying power. You don't need to let yourself hope._

The brush of wings against her heart, exciting and uncomfortable in equal parts, told her it was already too late for that. The ice had already melted, leaving her exposed and shivering. When she closed her eyes, she found herself once again seated on the onyx throne of Kur, waiting with bated breath for her sister to approach the first gate.

_Things will be different this time,_ she told herself, her lips tightening as a remnant of underworld frost curled in her breast. T_hey had better be, for her sake. If she betrays you again, you have ways of punishing her for it._

She thought of black chains swaying from stone pillars, and shuddered.

_No._ She forced herself to take deep breaths against the nausea welling up in her stomach, all the worse because it was accompanied by a vicious twist of pride. _She won't, because things are different here. _We_ are different here._

She forced herself to take a bite of her apple as she walked, choking the morsel down the tightness in her throat. The honeyed taste seemed fainter than usual, but it still melted on her tongue. She could take some comfort in that.

_Even if Ishtar does screw things up again, I don't _have_ to lash out. _She nodded to herself as some of the steel wire loosened from her shoulders, letting her walk more lightly on the tiled floors of Chaldea. _I'll handle it like Master would. I'll make her proud of me._

She felt pride welling up inside her again, but this time she leaned into it. It was a yellow rose in her hands, open to face the sun, and entirely different from the serrated ice from which she had long formed her crown.

Perhaps she would spend a little more time with her daisies, after all.

* * *

Ereshkigal's breath hitched when she looked out her door the next day, and found the box sitting on the ground in front of her. The wrapping cloth was a deep red this time, patterned in dragonflies.

She almost expected it to fade to mist as soon as she touched it, but it stayed comfortingly solid in her hands as she brought in inside. She set it on her table, next to the stuffed leopard, and stared at it for a long moment.

_It will be alright_, she told herself through her racing heartbeat. _Even if she disappoints me, I will manage. I will be the goddess that Master believes me to be._ That didn't stop the sigh from shuddering its way through her._ Still, I'd like to believe…_

Her hands trembled as she unfastened the cloth and cautiously removed the box's lid. A bunch of grapes was nestled inside between the bread and sunflower seeds, each one a perfect miniature globe of green.

When she popped one into her mouth, she thought she had never tasted anything sweeter.

* * *

**Author's note**: Are all my notes recommendations for other stories these days? It feels like it, but I really have no regrets recommending quality work, especially when it involves Ereshkigal. nd7878 wrote an excellent Ereshkigal and Olga story called "Afterlife" that captures both characters with perfect pitch, enough to make me slam my keyboard with envy. If you haven't checked it out, I would encourage you to do so.

As always, thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Ereshkigal made sure to return the empty box to the kitchen once she had eaten every last bite of food. She was loathe to let it go, but Hassan had said they were running low on dishes. It would be irresponsible to keep it, no matter how much she might have wanted to keep it nearby.

She didn't have to wait long to see it again. It returned to her door the next morning, filled to the brim with another selection of nostalgic treats. While Ereshkigal didn't see Ishtar again in the week that followed, the box was always there waiting for her. And if one of the wrapping clothes failed to make it back to its owner, instead becoming a new bandanna for a certain stuffed leopard, nothing was said or done about it.

Gradually the food was joined by little trinkets carefully folded into the package. A marigold flower, with the bright buttery petals she had once complimented in Marie Antoinette's hair. One of the stormy _anzu _feathers she had so admired in her sister's room. On one occasion, she even found a single ruby among the grapes—a very small one, but for Ishtar to give up a stone at all was unheard of. Ereshkigal held it clasped tightly in her hand the rest of that day, fearing it might fade away the moment she put it down.

On the seventh day, Ereshkigal waited by her door with the patience of a lioness ambushing prey. When she heard the light rustling of cloth, she burst into the corridor just as Ishtar was floating back from her deposited gift.

The black-haired goddess immediately averted her eyes, hands moving to wrap protectively around herself. "I don't need to prove anything, okay? I'm just doing this because I felt like it." A red flush crept across her face when she seemed to realize she wasn't helping her case at all. "Look, just shut up and take it."

Ereshkigal almost did, her fingers itching for the smooth feel of cloth. But right now, her heart was caught on something more. So she reached her hand out, palms up, in a receiving gesture. "If you want to give me something, sister, then shouldn't you do so directly?"

Ishtar's eyes snapped back to hers, crimson searching her face anxiously for the answer to some unspoken question with an intensity that made Ereshkigal's breath catch. Then the heavenly queen's forehead creased as she came to a decision, snatching up the box and setting it lightly in her sister's hands.

"There," she muttered, her eyes flicking quickly away from Ereshkigal's face to focus on the black silk of her ribbons. "Be sure to appreciate it!"

Ereshkigal felt warmth spread in her own face, all the way to the tips of her ears. The reaction made no sense, for she had already received many of these breakfasts from her sister, and there was nothing special about this one. _She put it into my hands_. Such a small thing, meaningless really. So why did it set her heart racing in her chest?

Another silence passed between them, and if they were mortals, Ereshkigal would have said that each was waiting for the other to say something, guide the next step of the awkward dance between them. But they were goddesses, and goddesses never hesitated.

That had to be why, when Ishtar turned with a final huff and kicked herself off the ground, Ereshkigal reached out and grabbed her arm-sleeve.

"Wait!" she said, not quite suppressing a flinch when Ishtar turned curious eyes to her. She dropped the sleeve as if it were on fire, and perhaps it was, judging from the sudden heat in her face and neck. She scowled, determined to keep better control of herself as she waved imperiously towards her door. "Come in," she said, "and don't ask questions."

_Mostly because I have no idea what to say_, she admitted internally as she swept into her room, resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder to make sure she was being followed. She wasn't entirely sure what she hoped might happen next. _I just don't want Ishtar to leave yet_.

There was a small pause in the shadow in her peripheral vision, and she could have sworn that Ishtar's foot hesitated just the slightest moment on her threshold. But it must have been her imagination, for when she turned around Ishtar was hovering near the centre of the room, cocky smile in place despite being in another goddess' domain.

"This is your room, hmmm?" said Ishtar, her voice warm with curiosity. "I see, I see!"

Ereshkigal watched uncomfortably as her sister glided around her quarters, murmuring happily to herself as she took in the silver-framed bed, the sofa and dark wood tables, the various keepsakes she had already accumulated during her time at Chaldea. What had seemed grand and stylish when Ritsuka sat with her suddenly seemed thin and shabby under the appraising gaze of her sister, heaven's queen with all her pomp and opulence. She remembered the golden braziers and shining ornaments Ishtar proudly displayed and winced, expecting judgment at any moment.

"It suits you," said Ishtar at last, and Ereshkigal sighed. _Here it comes, dark and gloomy_. But Ishtar smiled as she swept by, her hand brushing lightly along her sister's shoulder. "Those daisies simply won't do though. I'll bring you some more impressive blossoms, something fit for a goddess."

"I like the daisies," protested Ereshkigal, but she knew she was beaming at the praise. That realization brought a twitch of anger to her limbs, for divinity shouldn't care for any opinion but its own.

She was still trying to work out her feelings when she saw Ishtar saunter over to her table and pick up her plush toy. Her fingers tugged at the bandanna tied jauntily around its neck, and Ereshkigal winced as she remembered just where she had procured the golden cloth. But again Ishtar merely smiled.

"Is this a leopard?" she asked, rubbing her thumb along the sewn ears. "It's really cute."

"Ahh, yes," said Ereshkigal, a bit of pride seeping into her voice. "Vlad made it for me."

"Hmph! He must have forgotten mine." Ishtar's expression darkened for a moment before resuming its usual cheer. "I'll just go remind him about it later."

Ereshkigal felt her stomach tightened as her sister's voice washed over her, the latter looking about and offering the occasional unsolicited opinion on this or that furnishing. Her mind felt heavy and oddly blank as she tried to picture all the things she had ever wanted from this impossible goddess, the bright aura that spun with her own to form the morning star. _Companionship. Sympathy. Even just the knowledge that she was thinking about me_.

But in that moment, she couldn't think of how to express any of that. Her tongue, well honed for practiced speeches but as raw as spring when it came to expressing heartfelt desires, felt like lead between her teeth. _Come on, Ereshkigal. You've dreamed of this for centuries_, she told herself. _Strike while the iron is still hot. Do something, anything!_

Her hands curled into fists, sliding her manicured nails along the inside of her palm. A memory floated up, Ritsuka gently handling each finger as she patiently bent over her work. Hadn't she thought that was exactly the sort of moment she wished she could share with her sister? Hadn't she wanted to hold her hand and feel its warmth, scent the fresh leaves and sunlight of her skin?

No, that wouldn't work. She didn't have any nail supplies of her own, for she only indulged in painting them as an excuse to bask in her Master's presence. Ereshkigal desperately surveyed her room, looking for something that might fit the bill. Some excuse for the physical contact she craved and feared all at once.

Her eyes fell upon the vanity, with its assortment of bottles and hairbrushes. She didn't strictly need them, but they were a comfort enjoyed by her mortal self. And wasn't that the sort of thing sisters were supposed to do for each other? She seated herself at the vanity before she could second guess herself, picking up a brush and thrusting it at Ishtar.

"Brush my hair?" she said. She had meant it as a command, but to her mortification it came out as a question instead. She hastily coughed into her fist, then turned her head defiantly to face the mirror. "This is what sisters do," she said. "I'm the eldest, so it's only right that I go first."

Her throat constricted at the sight of Ishtar's raised eyebrow in the mirror, as silence descended between them again. Then Ishtar smirked, that familiar curve of lips that never failed to set Ereshkigal's heart racing.

"As you say," she said lightly, taking up position behind the underworld queen.

Ereshkigal sat rigidly in her chair, her fists clenched atop her knees as Ishtar hesitated, a slight furrow in those elegant brows. Then her sister bit her lip before lightly picking up one of her twintails, letting the blonde strands fall experimentally between her fingers. Long years alone in the gloom had left Ereshkigal so sensitive to touch that even the gentle tugging made her shiver.

"May I?" called her sister's voice.

She snapped her eyes to the mirror, and saw Ishtar's hands had moved to hover next to the star-pointed crown on her head—the symbol of her Authority as a goddess. _The very Authority she had tried to steal, all those millenia ago_.

Ice sunk its cold claws into Ereshkigal's breast before she fought it off, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm her suddenly racing heart. _Trust_, she thought with a hard swallow_. You have to trust if you want to bridge the chasm. Even if it ends up hurting._

So she made herself nod. "Very well," she said slowly. "I shall permit it. But only because we are both goddesses. I would never let a human see me in this state."

"Oh?" said Ishtar slyly. "Not even Ritsuka?"

"Urk!"

Ishtar laughed as she carefully drew the crown from Ereshkigal's hair, untangling the tresses before placing the ornament carefully upon the table. Then, to the eldest's surprise, she reached up and removed her own, placing it alongside. Gold-trimmed black metal shone brightly next to its silver counterpart.

"There," said Ishtar cheerfully as she turned back to her sister, running a finger along the ribbons keeping her hair up. "Now let's take care of these, shall we?"

Ereskigal forced herself to relax as Ishtar took a deep breath, then reached up to work her twintails loose, gently smoothing the hair out until it fell in a shining waterfall of gold. Then she dug her fingers fully into Ereshkigal's flowing locks, and the older goddess had to resist the urge to lean into that touch. Ritsuka had done this often enough, but her touches had been feather-light, as if afraid any pressure might burn her. Ishtar's fingers were far bolder, carding freely through blonde locks as she held them up against the brush.

It felt equally nice though, soft tugging and pulling as she felt the tangles come undone._Too nice_, in fact, and it was only by staring at their reflection in the mirror and seeing that raven-framed face so close to her own that she could convince herself this was real. She kept staring into the silvered glass, convinced that at any moment Ishtar's lips would curl into a sneer, her fingers tightening to pull and tear.

She never did. If anything, some of the tension in her shoulders seemed to bleed away as she stroked and smoothed her sister's hair. "Like the fields of Uruk under the sun," she said admiringly. "You should wear it like this more often, you look very cute." She laughed as she twisted a strand around the end of her finger. "Of course, you have my face, so it's impossible that you wouldn't!"

"And once again you manage to make it about yourself," muttered Ereshkigal, but she didn't really mind. She had wanted this so long, to bask in her sister's care and attention. She closed her eyes, savouring every moment of it. The pleasant draw of the brush through her tresses, Ishtar's clever fingers alternately stroking along the surface or digging in to gently massage her scalp.

_That feels nice_, she thought distantly to herself, leaning into the heavenly soft touches. _We should have done this much sooner_. Ishtar's voice was surprisingly soothing as she talked about one of her latest exploits, some daring escape from Quetzalcoatl's latest challenge. The details didn't really matter, only the vibrancy of her voice as it flowed between them.

"Ereshkigal? Hey, don't just ignore me!"

"Mmm?" She looked up blearily at her sister, who looked halfway between amusement and exasperation.

"I've been trying to ask you something for the five minutes," she huffed, before her frown eased into a sly grin. "Feels that good, does it?"

"I'll admit you might have some talent here," said Ereshkigal grudgingly.

Istar laughed. "You can thank my host. Tense overachievers always need some sort of outlet, and brushing your hair to a shine can be really satisfying." She grinned as she tucked a few stray strands behind her sister's ears, then guided her face to look herself in the mirror. Ereshkigal rarely saw herself with free-flowing hair, as it felt too informal for a queen of her stature, but she had to admit it looked good.

"Mostly for herself," continued Ishtar in an unusually soft tone, "But eventually, she got the opportunity to do it for others too."

Ereshkigal found herself thinking of a pink ribbon clasped in a slender hand. It made her heart ache, though she didn't know why. She glanced in the mirror just in time to see the grimace on her sister's face before the other shook herself, resuming her usual mask of boastful cheer.

"She got pretty good at massages, too," said Ishtar, before leaning over to whisper teasingly in her ear. "Did you want to see?"

Ereshkigal hesitated, part of her still whispering that it had to be some sort of trick. But having her hair brushed by her little sister had felt good—amazing, actually—and she was eager to experience more.

So she nodded as confidently as she could manage. "Yes, go ahead."

Ishtar's reflection momentarily balked, clearly taken off guard by her sister's agreement. Again that curious hesitation as she floated slowly back to resume her position behind the chair.

"Right," she said at last. "I'll need to take off your cloak, but I think we can loosen the top of your dress enough to manage."

Ereshkigal merely nodded her agreement, undoing the clasp and letting the soft red material fall into Ishtar's hands. To her surprise, the other goddess reached up to undo the clasp on her golden choker, loosening it from around her hand. And rather than flinch from the gruesome design of skull and spinal cord, she gently set it aside next to the crowns.

"Alright," said her sister as her hands hovered just above Ereshkigal's bared shoulders, though she seemed to be talking more to herself. "Ready."

Ereshkigal meant to ask about that hesitation, she really did, but it all melted away the instant Ishtar's hands gently but firmly pressed down against her skin. Her breath hitched at the sudden heat that flowed into her, setting her nerves tingling. She had known that her hands were cold, but she had never realized how much that held true for the rest of her body, not until something so warm and alive glided along the frozen surface.

It hurt a bit at first, fire trailing along her back as Ishtar prodded her fingers along the knotted muscles of her back, seeking out the points of tension. And there was quite a bit of tension, more than Ereshkigal liked to admit. The downside of her constant focus on her responsibilities, be they souls or overly trusting Masters—

She gasped as the fingers were replaced by palms kneading and pressing against tender muscles, drawing out the dull ache. Then the pain dissipated as quickly as it had come, replaced by tingling warmth, very much like the soothing heat of hot springs. She sighed and let herself go limp as Ishtar's hands deftly moved along her back, massaging out tight clusters. _The sensation of being touched, after so long… and by the person she had always wanted to feel this connection with. _For all that her sister was obnoxious, infuriating, difficult in every way, this felt right somehow. As if in some way, she was being completed.

Gradually the pressure decreased, until fingers were lightly dancing along her skin. She let out a long sigh, her mind drifting with the lingering warmth.

"Why now, Ishtar?" she found herself asking.

The other goddess' hands froze, and Ereshkigal mourned the loss of their silky softness against her sensitive spine. _No_, she chided herself, _I need her to answer me. I need to know_.

"You had centuries—no, millenia—to do this," she continued, ignoring the lurching in her stomach and the slight trembling in the hands at her back. "So why now?"

For a moment, crimson eyes gleamed at her in the mirror as Ishtar's lips spread in an insolent grin, and Ereshkigal could tell she was about to say something that would ruin their tentative truce entirely. Then her sister's mouth snapped shut, and her expression drained into something uncharacteristically serious, even melancholic.

"My other self…" began Ishtar hesitantly, looking vaguely in the direction of the ceiling, "...was estranged from her sister too. And I was too busy reaching for the sun to even notice, let alone extend a hand down. I can't ever make up for that pain, and those wasted years." She swallowed hard, her hands dropping away entirely to wring in her sister's shed cloak. "So I… I didn't want to leave things like this. Between us, I mean."

She laughed shakily. "Well, you would know. She's a part of you too, after all." She paused when she saw Ereshkigal's frown. "No?" she asked carefully.

Ereshkigal shook her head. "My host… well, things were different for her. She never… reconnected."

_(She stayed lonely. Like me_).

"I see," said Ishtar softly, before resuming her usual cocky grin. "Then let's make the best of this, hmmm? I won't let you sulk, so be sure to enjoy yourself!"

With that, she picked up the brush again, drawing the soft bristles through blonde tresses as she hummed to herself. Ereshkigal let herself be pampered a little more, enjoying the feel of fingers running through her hair even more now that she was a bit more relaxed. And as she watched Ishtar arrange her hairstyle this way and that, she found her gaze straying towards her sister's raven locks. She really did have pretty hair, spilled ink against her creamy skin, so alike and yet so different from Ereshkigal's own. She wondered if it would feel the same under her fingers.

_And as the older sibling, I should take care of my sibling a little bit_, she told herself, warming to the thought._ Yes, it's my responsibility_.

She nodded to herself, enjoying the calm she could see in her smiling reflection, before glancing over her shoulder. "That's enough," she said, rising from her seat to face her sister. "You've earned your turn." She patted the chair invitingly. "Sit."

To her surprise, the colour drained from Ishtar's face as her gaze fixed itself first on the chair, then on the mirror. Then she laughed, so boldly and clearly that Ereshkigal decided that once again, she must have imagined the moment..

"Of course," said Ishtar brightly as she descended to perch on the chair. "Make sure to take proper care of my beauty!"

"I'll count that as gratitude," said Ereshkigal as she shook her head in fond exasperation. _Divinities can only change so much, even with mortal souls to guide them. But this is okay too_.

She reached up to untie Ishtar's ribbons in turn, sighing as hair brushed against her eager fingers. Even better when the freed locks spilled out into her waiting palms. It was raw silk, soft and wonderful to the touch. The scent of pomegranate blossoms wafted up from it, and how could she ever have thought it cloying? It was sweet and airy, and she thought she might happily breath it in a little longer.

_Does my hair feel like this too? No wonder Master enjoys combing it so much_.

Ishtar said little, only murmuring occasional encouragement as Ereshkigal happily played with the black strands, enjoying their flowing softness. Crimson eyes never strayed from her movements in the mirror, but that scarcely seemed to matter. Of course her sister would want to see what was being done to her, an understandable vanity for the Goddess of Beauty.

Then Ereshkigal put down the brush in favour of running her hands along the sides of those sculpted cheeks, the better to tuck back her strands, as her sister had done earlier. But as soon as her fingers touched the skin, Istar _flinched_.

Ereshkigal recoiled on instinct, drawing her hands back as if she had been burnt. Immediately she felt the old gloom settling back over as she watched her sister duck her head down, breathing hard.

"Is it that horrible, to be touched by me?" she asked, a bitter taste flooding her mouth along with her heart.

"No." Ishtar shook her head, crimson eyes pleading. 'That's not it, sister."

"You don't need to say anything," said Ereshkigal, drawing her shoulders in tight as the weight of her despair crashed over her. "I carry the taint of the Underworld. It's natural that you would shy away from me." She looked away, unable to meet her sister's gaze even through the mirror. "You can go now. I will not ask you to return."

"It's not your touch_, _exactly," said Ishtar quietly, before heaving a sigh. "It's more about where you touched me."

Ereshkigal turned to look at her in confusion.

"That…" Ishtar pointed vaguely upwards, where her sister's hands had so recently cradled her face. "That's where you held my head, during my first descent. To keep it steady." The red of her eyes was dull and flat, her voice trembling. "When the _gallu_ spirits gouged my eyes out."

Suddenly it was hard to breath, as Ereshkigal's mind supplied all the images she had long sought to forget. Despite her sister's attempts at dignified stoicism, there had been blood and screams. And that had just been the beginning.

Her fingers shook as she clung to the back of the chair. "You remember that," she said softly, before meeting her sister's gaze in the mirror. "No, of course you do. How could you ever forget what I did to you then?"

"Sister, please," said Ishtar, shrugging in a vain attempt to steady her shoulders. "It's not important anymore."

"It hurts you, doesn't it?" said Ereshkigal. "To touch me. To be touched by me."

Ishtar tried to scoff. "That would be weak," she said. "And a war goddess is never weak."

Ereshkigal walked over to the sofa, stumbling on legs that felt like water. She slumped into it, leaning over to massage her forehead before glancing up at her sister.

"When I was in your room, and you talked about your first descent… " Her throat felt hot and itchy, but she forced the words out anyway. "Why did you treat it as a joke, Ishtar? How could you, when it's seared on both of us?"

"That's the only way I know how to talk about it," said the other quietly. "I hate remembering the details."

_Me neither_, thought Ereshkigal, forcing down another memory of darkness and crimson. She sighed, her breath a soft whisper in the space between them. "I wish you'd been more honest with me from the start."

Ishtar snorted, a rude sound that nevertheless brought a smile to Ereshkigal's lips. It was much preferable to the tears that threatened to burst through.

"Like you have a great track record there," said Ishtar, her surface scorn not quite hiding the smile underneath. "It took Master to drag you out of your evil witch act."

"And to bribe you into protecting Uruk properly, like you should have been doing all along," scoffed Ereshkigal. Then she gently ran her fingers along raven tresses again, handling them like a treasure. Noting the way her sister's body stiffened, now that she was no longer hiding it. "Does this hurt?"

"A bit," admitted Ishtar, "but please keep going." Her sigh was the whispering of wind through grasses after rainfall, of leaves opening in spring. "Because one day, it won't anymore."

"Okay," whispered Ereshkigal as she stroked her sister's head with feather-light touches, as she had cradled the most vulnerable of her charges. "Okay."

Silence descended once again, but a comfortable one, yellow and warm instead of the sharp crimson thorns she had earlier feared to touch. Ishtar slowly relaxed under her ministrations, resting the weight of her head fully in Ereshkigal's grasp. Again the scent of pomegranates hit the elder goddess, but as new buds rather than full blossoms. Lighter and shier, the promise of mortals rather than the ancient power of gods.

_Mortals_, she thought, and thought of warm amber eyes and a patient smile. Which reminded her…

"Ishtar?" she asked, never pausing the stroking of her hands.

"Mmmm?"

"The divine wine," said Ereshkigal, carefully so as not to stumble over her words. Words she had never imagined she might say, words that left her teetering on that chasm. "I've never brewed anything before. Do you…" she swallowed heavily, but forced herself to keep reaching. "Do you think you could help me?"

Crimson eyes widened in surprise. Then Ishtar grinned, so full of pride and golden joy that Ereshkigal couldn't help but smile back.

"Of course!" she declared. "Leave it to your little sister. Uruk's winemakers are the best in the world, and I am their patron. I'll make you an expert in no time."

"I'm glad," said Ereshkigal, and only then did she let herself feel relief. Relief that she had chipped the largest chunk of ice from her heart, and yet it remained whole and beating. Hope, because the first rope bridging the gap seemed to be holding, at least for the moment. Joy, because for the first time she could remember, she didn't feel lonely.

She felt whole, new, complete. It was a feeling that, in her gratitude, she wanted to share with everyone in Chaldea. All the Servants who supported the Master that made this possible, the staff that struggled tirelessly to keep things afloat. The people that made this—home, yes, she didn't want to deny it anymore—this home possible.

That warm ball of emotion in her belly made her raise her head again. "Hey, Ishtar? I think we should make an extra flask for Enkidu. They never did get a chance to taste it before—"

"Don't push it," growled Ishtar.

* * *

**Author's Note: **[Interlude complete. Obtained Mysterious Divine Wine x 10]

More seriously, thank you for reading. There's no greater compliment to an author than having someone follow their story all the way through, even a relatively short one. If you have any questions or comments, please do feel free to drop me a review or a PM. Writing is like a conversation, as better authors than me have said.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention one of the very best Ereshkigal stories out there, Meltryllis' "Touch-Tone Goddess", over on AO3. They've wonderfully captured Eresh's feelings on being touched after years in solitude, and in less than 1K words.


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